AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Callum stopped in surprise. He knew he had the right house because it was exactly the same on the outside, and his key fitted the lock. But the place had been redecorated; the chintzy wallpaper was gone, replaced with bare walls painted off-white. He glanced up the stairs. The dark wood skirting boards were now glossy white, and the dark brown staircase with the old-fashioned spindles that had been in the house since it was built in the thirties had been replaced by a modern staircase with open-tread stairs.
Walking down the narrow hallway, past the opened doorway to the lounge, he could hear voices in the dining room next door. He recognised his mother’s voice. He frowned. It sounded as though she had friends round. She obviously hadn’t heard the doorbell. Perhaps that wasn’t surprising, considering the chatter and laughter he’d heard as he passed by the door. Callum frowned. How could she have friends round, and be enjoying herself – it was his mother he had heard laughing – at a time like this?
At the end of the hall was the kitchen, and next door was a small box room, which was his father’s study. Callum didn’t fancy walking in on her and her friends, so he stepped into the study and closed the door, putting his bag down on the leather chair in front of the desk. He turned full circle, taking in the room. Nothing had changed; his mother hadn’t cleared out all his father’s stuff as he expected. This room hadn’t been touched. It was still just as chaotic as he remembered.
It looked like an old bookshop, with bookshelves lining two walls, and little wooden tables with old books stacked in precariously high piles. Callum looked at his father’s desk. He could see that he’d been in the middle of binding a book when ... Callum swallowed. He wanted to know how his father had died – and when. And why his mother hadn’t contacted him.
Chapter 11
Callum could still hear laughter coming from the dining room. He glanced over his shoulder to the door and frowned. It sounded as though whatever was going on in there, they were having a good time.
He shifted his bag, sat down in the chair, and set to work. He was surprised how it easily came back to him. Of course it helped that all the materials and tools were still here, and it had gone quiet in the dining room, so he could concentrate. He hoped they were all leaving.
An hour later, Callum turned the bound book over in his hands, admiring his handiwork. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed it. He made the mistake of leaning back in the chair – an antique, wheeled leather chair. The chair rolled unexpectedly, knocking into one of the little tables stacked with books.
Callum swivelled round and reached for the stack, but it was too late. They toppled and fell to the floor with a loud thump. He winced.
A moment later, the study door opened. His mother, Moira, a small slim woman, was wearing a figure-hugging floral dress, and Callum thought she looked surprisingly well for someone who’d just lost her husband. She stopped in the doorway. She couldn’t have looked more surprised if she’d tried.
‘Bloomin hell, Callum!’
‘Yeah, I bet the last person you expected to see was me.’
‘What are you doing here?’
Callum stared at her.Is she serious?he thought. ‘What do you think I’m doing here?’ he replied. When she didn’t answer, he held up the book. ‘He must have been working on this. I just finished it.’
She looked at the book in his hands. ‘You still remember how to bind books?’
‘Yeah – weird, huh? It’s been like, years.’ He looked at his mother. He could still hear her friends talking in the next room. This must be how she was coping.
Callum didn’t blame her for not getting in touch. Even if she had tried to call, he probably wouldn’t have answered. Now he was there, he wanted to go and pay his respects. ‘Where’s Dad?’
‘Ah, Callum, we need to talk about that.’
He shook his head. ‘Y’think?’
They both fell silent. Callum glanced at the desk and at the piles of books, some already bound beautifully and half-wrapped in brown paper. He wondered whom they had been bound for. ‘Those business trips Dad used to go on ...’
The shrill sound of the old house phone in the hall interrupted Callum.
‘I’d better answer that.’ Moira walked out of the room. Callum heard his mum.‘Hello Doreen. I’m all right, Doreen, sort of. No, no, honestly, you don’t have to come over. Oh, all right ... but I’m running my book club this morning. You’re welcome to join us.’
Book club?So that was what all the people were doing there. He shrugged, thinking that perhaps it was for the best that she was keeping herself busy.
He heard her put the clunky phone receiver back in its cradle.
‘Everything all right, Moira?’ Callum heard one of her friends ask. ‘What was that noise we all heard?’
‘It’s my son. He’s home.’
Callum stepped out of the study. ‘It was just me.’
‘Oh, my goodness. You didn’t tell us your famous son was visiting!’ His mum’s friend rushed forward. ‘I’m Eileen. You must tell me when the next season of the show is due to air. Are you busy filming at the moment?’
Callum bit back a sarcastic remark. If he had been, he obviously wouldn’t be there.
‘I can’t wait for the next season to find out if Fergus MacGregor leaves America and returns to his Scottish ancestral home.’
